“Is there any record that Wolf was gambling that night?” Kate asked. “Did you check with the casino he reportedly visited? Ask for their security footage?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. “It didn’t occur to me to do that. I took Jonathan’s word.”
Kate clicked her tongue. “In this business, you can never take anyone’s word.” She clapped my shoulder. “That’s okay. You’re new at this. Don’t beat yourself up about it. What else ya got for me?”
The cipher ring burned a hole in my pocket. Kate might have been cool with me using the key card to get into Wolf’s suite, but she probably wouldn’t feel the same way about my thievery.
“I decoded the rest of the journal,” I said. “It’s more of the same. The writer brags about his conquests and compares them to Holmes’s crimes.”
“I’ll need the journal,” Kate said. “Maybe we can match the handwriting to someone else’s.”
“Sure. No problem.”
For once, I didn’t care about handing my hard-won evidence to the police. The journal wasn’t giving out any more clues, and I didn’t want it near me anymore.
Kate’s radio buzzed again. This time, she answered.
“Go for Arnold,” she said.
“Basement’s clear, Detective,” came the reply. “We got nothing.”
“Ten-four.” She hooked the radio back to her belt and sighed. “That settles that. Mind keeping an eye on things here? I’m not entirely convinced of the Saint Angel’s shining reputation. Call me if you see something weird.”
“You’re on my speed dial.”
After Kate and the police left, the familiar depression that accompanied a cold case settled into my fingers and toes. It weighed my body down and forced me to sink into the couch. Feeling empty, I stared at the gray sky and wondered what would happen if I leapt off the balcony and spread my arms to fly.
“You’d die, stupid,” I muttered to myself.
“What?”
I jolted upright and twisted around. Evelyn had just come through the door, though I hadn’t heard her do so. She set her keys on the counter.
“Easy,” she said, holding up her hands. “Just me. What’s going on? You’d die doing what?”
“Throwing myself off the balcony.”
“That’s dark,” she said calmly. “Are you really thinking about that?”
“Only in theory.” I picked at a piece of skin alongside my thumbnail. “Not in practice. It’s more escapism than anything else.”
“L’appel du vide,” Evelyn said in a flawless French accent.
“What does that mean, mademoiselle?”
“The call of the void.” She rested her elbows on the kitchen counter and stared into the distance. “It’s the feeling of being high up and thinking to yourself ‘I could jump right now.’ It’s pretty common actually.”
“What a relief,” I deadpanned.
“Something’s bothering you,” she observed. “What happened with your case?”
I waved off the question. “Kate didn’t find anything. Back to square one again.”
“She’s not going to question Wolf?”
“No idea,” I said. “But she says we don’t have enough evidence to prove he’s the culprit. Besides, he has an alibi for the night Megan died. He was out drinking.”
“Supposedly,” Evelyn said. “Did you ever confirm that with him?”
“Why is everyone pointing out my investigative flaws today?” I snapped.
She didn’t reply, merely gazing at me with an expectant expression.
“Sorry,” I grumbled. “But I feel—”
“Inadequate?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
Evelyn came around to the sofa, leaned over the back, and planted an intentionally slobbery kiss on my forehead. “You’re my best friend. I get you. Plus, I feel the same way sometimes. Like I can never do enough.”
“Exactly!”
I yanked a hair out of her scalp to pay her back for the wet kiss. She winced and rubbed the tender spot. As she did so, the gold locket swung out of her neckline. My eyes followed it as it swung like a clock’s pendulum.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Evelyn said, unaware of my gaze. “You’re going to go up to the penthouse, knock on Wolf Godfrey’s door, and ask him for his side of the story. He seems inclined to trust you. Maybe he’ll tell you more than he told the police.”
“And if he tries to stuff me in a soundproof room then drop me off the balcony?”
Evelyn checked her watch. “If you’re not back in a half hour, I'll come get you.”
Though I wasn’t sure how wise it was to visit Wolf’s penthouse this late in the evening, Evelyn’s pep talk had reignited the pilot light of my curiosity. With the stolen keycard, I accessed the top floor from the elevator and politely knocked on Wolf’s door. When no one answered, I knocked again. I pressed my ear to the door, hearing moans of discomfort.
“Wolf?” I called. “Is everything okay?”
The noises amplified. My pulse pounded. I flashed the keycard, pushed the door open, and barged in, determined to save Wolf from whatever jeopardy he’d fallen into, even if he was a murderer.
I got way more than I bargained for.
There, on the white sofa, Fletcher Stevens and Wolf Godfrey lay in a passionate embrace. Fortunately for all of us, they were both clothed, sparing me further embarrassment. Nevertheless, my face burned as I turned away.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry!”
I hurried to leave, but Fletcher raced me to the exit and planted himself between me and my way out. Chest heaving, he stared at me with his intense blue eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. “How did you get in?”
“The front desk gave me a key card,” I spluttered. “So that Pearl could get into Jonathan’s suite.”
Fletcher advanced toward me. I stumbled backward and hit my heel on the kitchen counter. Bracing myself against it, I looked for a way around Fletcher’s broad form.
“I heard noises,” I stammered. “I thought Wolf might be in trouble. I didn’t mean—I didn’t know—”
“Nobody knows,” Fletcher snarled. “And we intend to keep it that way until we see fit.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Darling,” Wolf called in a lilting voice. “Stop scaring her, won’t you? Life’s a game. We’ve simply drawn a poor hand as of late. Jacqueline, honey, come over here.”
I
